AN: Slowly getting the team back on side.

There was a pregnant pause where everything seemed temporarily frozen before life seemed to return to Neville Parker. "Inspector Poole. I've read your files." His eyes narrowed. "Aren't you supposed to be rather… dead?"

"I got better." Richard said flatly.

"The sheer gall." Camille said. "First Maman's and now here?"

Neville shot her a startled look.

"You knew he was alive?"

"He's not going to be for much longer." Camille said ominously, her gaze steely. Richard didn't flinch but his shoulders were set stubbornly as he anticipated attack. "Where is your babysitter?"

"Currently still sifting through the cargo ship." He said steadily.

"Mon Dieu, that was you!"

"Not personally, but I had my hand in."

"So wait." Neville said, brow furrowed. "You're… MI5?"

"That's what I said."

He stared at Richard. "The police operation. Then I'm assuming that the cargo ship isn't really stuck?"

Neville was surprisingly quick to come to the conclusion that Richard had faked his death, more or less, for an entirely more dangerous avenue of employment, and Camille tried not to feel bitter about how fast the puzzle pieces fell into place for her friend. Of course, Neville wasn't anywhere near as emotionally tied to the whole situation, and up until that moment Inspector Poole was a name and a photo in an old file.

"Oh, it's most certainly not going anywhere soon." Riichard said. "Considering that's where I found the late Superintendent Dooley."

"Why are you here?" Neville asked. "Now?"

Richard looked at Camille and then away. After a moment from his briefcase, he withdrew a floppy disk.

Both Camille and Neville stared at him.

"I need a computer." Richard said.

He could hardly believe he was doing this, but keeping his hands on task seemed to distract his brain enough to keep the gnawing anxiety at bay. From the back storeroom Richard poked through the collected electrical equipment that Charlie Hulme had just dumped there. He remembered having the clear intention of hauling it all out to the kerb after he got back from the reunion-

Well.

It turned out that each succeeding DI was as much as a pack rat as Charlie, and now whole generations of computers were just piled out the back, rotting away. Eyeballing a setup with a floppy drive, he passed the box to Camille and grabbed a monitor, eyes widening briefly as he was reminded how heavy the original setups were.

"It might not work." She warned.

"Then I just go through every computer until I find one that does."

She rolled her eyes. "There must be an easier way to do this."

"Probably, but Amazon's shipping times for a removable drive are ridiculous and this whole situation has already wasted too much time already."

Sweeping away the accumulated rubbish on the spare desk, he proceeded to set up the computer as Parker watched on, still looking clueless as Richard's silent shadow DC Bell watched from the door.

"You suspect that Superintendent Dooley was the one that tipped off the investigators about Bauhm in '99?" DI Parker finally asked. "And he was the one that manufactured Patterson's charges?"

Richard barely stopped himself from snorting derisively. He had thought that Parker was supposed to be the smart one. "Selwyn Patterson manufactured his own charges." He said sharply. "But do I believe that Dooley put the wind up Internal Affairs? Yes, incredibly, but we're not about to find out from the man now, are we?"

It had been twelve hours since the cargo ship operation, and whenever Richard least expected it the smell seemed to wash back into his nose, almost like he could taste it.

"I know a lady who would be willing to give it a try." Camille shot him a needling look.

"And even if she wasn't a complete charlatan, I very much doubt that the spirit of Max Dooley would have spoken to a woman that smells like marijuana and cats." Richard retorted, flashing back to the self-styled psychic that had once arrogantly offered them 'guidance' on a murder while she did her best to contaminate the crime scene and strung along the grieving family with false hope. Oh, how Richard wished he could have arrested her as well.

Instead he had just reported her for non-payment of thirty years of back-taxes.

"She'll be happy that you remember her." Camille said coldly.

Richard ignored her. "Everything pointed to him, Dooley wasn't exactly subtle the way he stomped around the Caribbean."

"The new Bauhm." Camille remembered her mother sternly warning her to keep away from Pierre no matter what. He had been a very charming man on the surface, but even when she was small Camille had felt the undercurrent of danger around him.

Richard nodded. "He used Bauhm's own methods to replace him."

"Poetic."

"Isn't it just."

"But-" Parker's brows were drawn together in concentration. "Why would both of them run their operations from here? Instead of London or Paris?"

"Did you know about Saint Marie before you were sent here?" Richard asked. "It's much easier to control things when there's only really one way off the island." He smiled wryly. "Hiding among the people they had sent into exile." He fiddled with the ancient computer cords.

"And then Dooley got cocky." Camille said.

"He's been doing the same thing and getting away with it since the new millennium. He had no reason to think otherwise."

She nodded. "Someone in the network thought he had become too much of a liability and killed him."

"And the very existence of this disk seems very much to imply that he wasn't as clueless as he seemed to be. Because if he lived, this disk would still be with Dooley, but if he died he knew this disk would end up in the hands of the investigating officers."

"Why a floppy?" Parker asked. "No one uses floppies anymore."

Camille and Richard's eyes briefly met. "Because it would certainly make us curious."

He pressed the on button. There was nothing for a long moment and Richard's teeth set on edge.

And then the fans cut in, sounding like a small helicopter was taking off, and the whole room breathed a sigh of relief as the OS booted up to a login screen. The moment of elation was followed by an ah shit moment as he looked at the Administrator login asking for a password.

"Try Paloma." Camille said. Richard looked at her. She shrugged. "It's what Dwayne named his first motorbike."

Richard raised an eyebrow, but it made sense. Dwayne Myers had been a mainstay at the Honoré police station for a long time. He typed it in and the breath whooshed out of him as the computer booted to a primitive Saint Marie Police Force internal webpage. Popping the disk in, he opened it up.

There was only one file on the disk, last edited four years ago. Camille leaned over his shoulder unconsciously, also noticing the date.

"Dooley has been planning this for a while." Her eyes narrowed. "Maybe he was under more pressure from the investigation into Operation Restoring Confidence than it appeared."

Richard hummed a little in agreement before clicking on the icon. The computer groaned and moaned, making clunking noises that made him wince. Finally line by line a document started to load. Camille and Parker lent in.

"You are formally invited to the Snow Ball." Richard read.

"It's the same weekend as the Governor's Ball." Camille observed.

"A snow ball?" Neville frowned. "That seems a little irrelevant out here."

Richard glanced at Parker, and then looked at Camille, who raised her eyebrows. Maybe he was incorrect in his assumption about Parker's intelligence.

"'Snow' as in cocaine, Neville." Camille said gently. "RSVP to Griselda."

"No phone number." Richard said.

Camille nodded. "Codeword?"

"Very possibly, since Griselda was known as the Godmother of Cocaine." He popped the floppy disk from the drive, placing it carefully on the desktop.

Her look was calculating. "What are you going to do now?"

Richard reached up to adjust his tie before remembering that he wasn't wearing one.

"I don't know about you, but I intend to go to a party."

"Is that an open invitation?" Camille asked innocently.

"Like it would stop you even if I said no." Richard said. She was about to shoot back a reply when the station's door squeaked open and the three of them looked up. And even though technically he hadn't been an active police officer in years, Richard could still instinctively recognise the breed of human that was standing before them, the cool reptilian countenance and the vague suggestion of inhumanity that meant that if they blinked vertically you wouldn't really be all that surprised.

Internal Affairs had finally arrived.

Camille stretched against the desktop, casually sweeping the floppy disk from the desk into Richard's open briefcase and he smoothly snapped it closed in one. God, he missed working with her.

"Gentlemen." The twitchy little Parker also recognised the manner and bearing of the men. "Can I help you?"

"I believe so." The taller of the men said. Camille immediately didn't like him; the man gave off the same insufferable smugness of Elon Musk. "I am Phillip Canducci and this is John Darling, we're officers from Internal Affairs. Inspector Parker?"

"Yes, that's me."

Canducci turned bright, squirrelly eyes on Camille and Richard. "And you are-?"

"Ricard Palou, Blenheim Law." Richard said smoothly.

"Detective Inspector Camille Bordey, Police Nationale."

Neither of them bothered to offer pleasantries. Richard knew that statistically they were probably a pair of jolly nice blokes, but it was a hard thing to unlearn the us vs them mentality in regards to Internal Affairs after a lifetime of policing.

Canducci's eyes skipped over him to settle on Camille. Oh yes, the man knew who she was, right away. "You're far from home, Inspector Bordey."

Camille's eyes were flinty. "My mother lives here. As I am sure you are aware. Neville? I'll see you at the bar, oui?"

"Of course." Parker said somewhat distractedly Camille's bold gaze settled on Richard and he fought the urge to squirm uncomfortably.

"Monsieur Palou, I do believe that I will be retaining your services." She swept towards the door. "Come."

And Richard followed, tugged along in her wake.

Out of sight of the police station, Richard handed his briefcase and notes to DC Bell. "Get these back to Commander Sadler. Text me when you have handed it over."

"Sir."

The two of them watched as the young man drove back down the road. When Bell was finally out of sight the two of them dithered where they stood, each carefully trying not to look at each other. Out of under her lashes she watched as Richard smoothed his hair back agitatedly before tucking his hand into his trouser pocket, nose screwed up.

"Drinks?"

The offer was made softly, hesitantly. She bit her lip. Was she really going to allow herself to fall back into the emotional trap that had held her prisoner for so long? Pining and sad and pathetic?

A pause. "Yeah."

Apparently she was.

It hurt, how quickly the two seemed to fall into step with each other again like all the years hadn't gone by at all, like everything had been a fever dream since the day she had walked out onto the balcony to see him with an icepick in his chest. Camille briefly squeezed her eyes closed, trying to conjure her Richard Poole, the phantom that had kept her company for all these years. But the voice remained resolutely silent and he would not appear. There was only the other Richard, bearded and older and greyer and tired and rather crumpled-looking.

The real Richard.

Her eyes swung forward.

"I don't forgive you, you know."

There was a pause. "I am aware." He said softy. "I doubt I would forgive myself either."

She snorted.

"All I can say in my defence is that I genuinely believed I was keeping you all safe." He tisked a little to himself. "But of course, all roads lead back to Saint Marie."

Camille immediately heard the derision in his voice and bristled. "If you hadn't blown my cover you would not have had to deal with me." Her voice was sharp.

She didn't expect the short laugh that followed. "If I hadn't, I wouldn't be here either." That caused her to pause, and he nodded. "You blew my cover too. That's why I was diverted to here."

Sudden understanding, and she could have kicked herself for not realising sooner. "You were going to follow the drugs from the inside."

He nodded. Camille's nose screwed up. "If you'd just not done anything-"

"We might have both just died." Richard finished. "Max Dooley was Doug Anderson's training officer. It was very possible that he knew who I was."

That caused her to come to a slow stop. Camille flashed back to her call to Humphrey weeks ago.

"Anderson?"

Richard hummed. "It was a relatively recent revelation, I'm sorry to say. I don't know why I'm surprised that two horribly unpleasant men knew each other."

"But Anderson's-"

"Dead as well? Indeed, quite."

"You know for sure?" Camille challenged.

"Call me heartless, but I get a call that he's dead? Of course I'm going to make sure he's dead. Just in case, you know."

"You're heartless." But there was something endlessly amusing about the idea of a stoic Richard Poole expressionlessly poking Anderson with his favourite marker to make sure he was really dead. "But I probably would have done the same."

"Oh good, I'm so glad I have your approval." He said dryly.

Camille had the urge to hit him and forced it down, before realising that, imbecile, Richard wasn't her boss anymore and there was technically nothing to stop her now. She punched his arm and the overly-hurt expression on his face almost made her laugh.

"You better be, because it's only by my grace that Maman hasn't chased you and your boyfriend off the island yet."

Richard sniffed and stated walking again. Camille frowned before hurrying to catch up. His shoulders were set stiffly at the mention of Roger Sadler.

"Richard?"

"Never mind me, I'm just…" He trailed off. "My oldest and dearest friend, and we can't stand each other." She didn't like his dark laugh. "I'm tired, Camille."

"I understand." She really did. "Ah, I have it! You will have to retire, move back here, and spend the rest of your life grovelling for my forgiveness!"

At his small smile Camille felt the small knot of hate and loss in her chest begin to loosen slightly.

"Come."

"Er, where?"

At that she took his free hand, ignoring the small jolt of surprise that the flesh of a dead man was soft and warm, and tugged him forward.

"You are going to meet the children."

There was sudden resistance on the end of her arm as Richard immediately guessed where she was attempting to drag him off to, his eyes widening as he dug his heels in.

"What? No!"

Camille looked back at him. Richard's jaw was set stubbornly, feet planted firmly, and her eyes narrowed. "You're scared of Fidel." She deduced triumphantly. After a moment a small edge of indignation crept in. "You're scared of Fidel and yet you are not scared of me?"

"I've always been scared of you, you harridan." He said sarcastically and Camille smiled despite herself. "I surmised long ago that if you were going to, say, shoot me upon my reappearance, you would do it immediately and be done with it, therefore if I was still alive after the immediate shock wore off I would be moderately safe. Dwayne probably wouldn't care either way. Fidel, on the other hand…" Richard trailed off. "Well, honestly, I can see him pretending that everything is fine and then going about and poisoning my tea."

That made Camille laugh. "You're the one that taught him how to get away with murder."

"Purely inadvertently, I assure you!"

"I'm sure." Camille said with a straight face. "However, this, Monsieur Palou, is entirely non-negotiable at this point."

The Best house was on the very edge of Honoré, shaded with trees and a wide yard entirely littered with children's paraphernalia. Camille messaged that she was here and Juliette replied that they were in the backyard and they could just walk through. Camille looked up from her phone to see Richard look like he was considering bolting, and she hooked her arm firmly around his elbow, locking him in place.

"Ready to go?" She asked innocently, and Richard scowled. As they walked through the house, the barks of excited puppies and the delighted squeals of her own daughter increased in volume and Camille smiled. The two of them stepped out onto the back veranda.

Aimèe was holding onto Rosie's hands as the girls stood in a circle of spotted puppies, giggling endlessly as the puppies licked and nipped and tugged at her colourful overalls. Camille's smile widened, her heart threatening to burst.

Richard's face was unreadable.

Juliette Best was sitting on the steps, watching the girls, and Ritchie was sitting in an outside chair, looking quite serious as he perused the book across his knees. Juliette looked up and smiled, but her eyes slid over Camille and onto Richard. After a brief moment of confusion understanding dawned and all expression smoothed away.

Of course Juliette would have been the first person Fidel had spoken to.

"Hello." She said neutrally. Hearing his mother's tone Ritchie perked up, peering at them curiously.

"Hello." Richard said stiffly. "It's… good to see you again, Juliette."

Juliette hummed to herself. "Excuse me if it's a bit too early to say that about you." She said evenly. Richard swallowed.

"Understandable."

Ritchie was looking up at him, his smooth brow scrunched up in a frown. "Are you a friend of Grandpa and Grand-Mère?"

Richard looked down at the little boy, his throat working uncomfortably. "I… was actually a friend of your father a long time ago."

Ritchie's eyes were sharp and clever as he looked the man up and down. Camille almost laughed at the situation; Richard looked like he'd much rather be cross-examined on the stand. "Oh." The younger Best said.

Suddenly there was a delighted cry, and Camille looked over to see her daughter had finally spotted her. With a bright drooling grin, Aimèe used Rosie as a walking frame to slowly stumble over to them, pushing through the onslaught of puppies. Camille swept up her daughter and whirled them both in a circle as Aimèe laughed.

"Did you miss your maman, chèrie?"

Aimèe seized a fistful of her hair, considering whether she was going to put it into her mouth or not, before deciding to just bonk her head against Camille's collar bone. She murmured nonsense words into her daughter's hair before turning around. "Come here."

Richard's eyes widened in alarm, any composure gone in an instant. "Absolutely not!"

"Absolutely yes. Don't make me chase you down." Camille said. "It's just like when you used to hold Rosie."

Ritchie snapped to attention at that, looking to his sister. Rosie stared at Richard, trying to place him in her memory.

He took an involuntary step back.

"No. I'll drop her."

"You could never be that clumsy." She said patiently. "Richard."

"Camille." He echoed in the same tone.

With a sigh Camille held out a rather confused-looking Aimèe. "Take the baby."

"I will not."

She felt her eye twitch. Somehow Camille had managed to entirely forget exactly how exasperating he could be, her memory having conveniently glossed over the more annoying aspects of his personality.

"It's just a baby." Ritchie said. "You don't need to be scared."

"Not yet, anyway." Juliette said. "Aimèe needs time to grow into a proper Bordey."

"And all that entails." Richard said dryly. Normally Camille would have immediately snapped back, but instead she used his miniscule break in concentration to thrust Aimèe against his chest. Taken by surprise, Richard's arms automatically closed around the baby as Aimèe looked up at the new person curiously.

"See?" Camille said. "You didn't drop her." Even as she said it, Camille wasn't sure he heard her as Richard and Aimèe regarded each other curiously for a long moment. There was a strange turmoil in his eyes, warmth and longing and an undecipherable loss.

"This is Aimèe."

"Hello, little one." He said after a long moment, a slight wobble in his voice, and Aimèe broke into a gummy grin at the voice so different from the other ones around her, reaching up to boop his nose.

Camille smiled.

And then she heard the booming laugh of Fidel's dad, and he and Fidel stepped around the side of the house. Immediately getting swarmed by puppies, Fidel laughed and bent down to pet them before straightening.

His eyes immediately landed on Richard, and all expression fell out of his face. "I'm going to start lunch." He announced before disappearing into the house.

There was an uncomfortable pause.

"Maybe you'll have to spend the rest of your life grovelling for his forgiveness." Camille observed. Richard handed her back her daughter, Aimèe reluctantly releasing his beard.

"I'll go talk to him."

"Inspector."

The voice was sharp and briefly froze him to the spot before he looked at Juliette. Her voice didn't rise in anger, and was soft and steady.

"Hurt him again and I will find you."

Richard nodded.

"Understood."

Richard Poole hadn't been expecting any of this. He'd thought he'd be in and out, protect them from afar and interact with them minimally at most. He hadn't planned any of this at all.

Now he seemed to be breaking all the rules.

He wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers. Well, at least Camille didn't seem to overtly hate him as much, but he somehow hadn't anticipated Fidel's anger. Richard had never been very good at conflict resolution in his personal life, which was part of the reason he much liked his solitary existence, but the idea that someone as honest and true as Fidel Best legitimately hated him was a hard pill to swallow.

So much for making no lasting impact in two years.

Richard followed the angry banging of pots and pans to where Fidel was standing over the sink. The young man stared moodily out the window for a moment before clanging another pot into the sink.

Richard winced. "Well, is that really necessary?"

Fidel immediately whirled around and judging by his face Richard counted himself lucky that he didn't have a knife in hand. "So, er." He ran a hand back through his hair. Gosh, he needed a haircut. He looked like he sold hemp jewellery at the market in a tie dye shirt. Richard coughed. "You're looking well. Fatherhood suits you."

"What are you doing here?" Fidel demanded.

"Er, Camille sort of dragged me here. I suspect-" Richard paused, thinking. After a moment he set his jaw. "I suspect that she intended to hurt me by bringing me face to face with everything I had missed."

Fidel nodded. "Did it hurt?"

His hand rose to cover the scar over his heart. "It always hurts."

"Good." Fidel said. "You deserve it." Those words cut Richard to the quick. Fidel spun back to the sink, starting to clang again.

"Fidel." Richard sighed.

The clanging increased in aggression. "For months Rosie was asking for you, you know. Wondering if she'd done something wrong to stop you from visiting."

He had thought his heart had already been broken, but at those words the pieces began to crumble to dust.

"I'm sorry." He said softly.

"She doesn't remember now, she's 12. Almost a teenager. But I remember. I remember telling her you were still chasing bad guys, that it wasn't her that made you go away." The anguish in his voice was heartrending. "I checked your vitals, you know. Dwayne took Camille home and I secured and photographed the site."

"I'm sorry you had to do that." Richard said. He had never been ignorant enough to not see that the young man had come to see him somewhat as a mentor, and if Richard had to secure and photograph his mentor's murder scene as a young officer, he doubted he would have handled it nearly as well.

Fidel sneered slightly. "And here you are, like nothing ever happened."

Richard scoffed. "Now, hardly like nothing ever happened." He had the scar tissue and the artificial valve in his heart to attest to that.

Fidel dismissed him. "I took your vitals. I confirmed you were dead."

Slowly the penny stated to drop for Richard.

"You were alive and I said you were dead." He said bitterly. "What sort of police officer does that make me?"

"Anyone would have done the same." Fidel snorted disbelievingly but Richard carried on. "That situation was… a statistical outlier that shouldn't be counted. You're a good police officer, Fidel."

"Sure." The younger man said dismissively.

"You are." Richard said forcefully, honestly feeling a little insulted. "We need more good officers like you."

"If I was such a good officer I would have reported my super months ago!" It burst out of him, a long-suppressed thought. Richard blinked.

"Superintendent Dooley?"

Fidel frowned. "How do you know?"

Gee, this was awkward. "Well, you see, he's rather… dead."

He blinked dumbly. "What?"

"Fidel, I think we need to talk."

But seemingly sensing the seriousness of the situation Richard's phone rang, causing both of them to jump. He pulled out his phone, seeing Clarence Bell's number.

"You want me to leave?" Fidel asked. Richard shook his head. He seemed to be breaking all the rules now.

"Yes?"

"We have the preliminary autopsy results." Bell said. Richard looked at Fidel.

"I'm listening."

"The ME believes he was killed in the hours after he last spoke to Inspector Parker." Bell said.

"Cause of death?"

"The body was too degraded for a conclusive cause to be discovered, but the medical examiner has discovered marks around his throat that may indicate a garotte."

"Garrotte." Richard murmured. He could honestly see it. In a place like Saint Marie, it would be all too easy to walk up behind someone on the street, whip out a garotte and snap it around their throat and pulling tight, cutting off any screams. If there was one thing about Honoré that Richard always found somewhat unnerving, it was the sheer number of shady alleyways and hidden paths that were present. Not as many as London, of course, but certainly enough.

"Sir?"

"Yes, Bell?"

"The ME found a condom in his stomach."

Richard's eyes narrowed. "Indeed?"

"There was a micro-USB inside."

Richard hung up, tapping his chin curiously. Looking at Fidel's face he could tell that the younger man had heard most, if not all, of the conversation. His eyes narrowed.

"Fidel?"

"Sir." Fidel said automatically. Richard slipped his phone into his jacket.

"How would you like to do a job for me?"

Fidel's eyes narrowed.

Yes, Richard concluded, there was something about Saint Marie that made all the rules go out the window.